


Another Day

by i_am_a_hog



Series: Jesus Christ Superstar [40]
Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Angery Judas because Jesus is injured, Injured Jesus, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, bathtub fic, it hurts, it's good, not the kissing..., this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 15:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18994993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_am_a_hog/pseuds/i_am_a_hog
Summary: Written for tumblr prompt: "bathtub fic + poorly timed confession for a ship of your choice?" Except the confession isn't really poorly timed. It just... happens.





	Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> As much as it pains me (for JCS reasons) to have to publish a fic that makes my JCS fic count go over 39, here goes:
> 
> Ok so - picture me as your Jesus/Judas fic dealer in a dark alley at 3 am (which it is here) trying to make you buy some other shit as well even though you just wanna leave with your fic.
> 
>  
> 
> [The 'other shit' is the song I named this fic after because it SLAPS not only as a tune but also uh,, slaps my feelings. Too accurate. So if you wanna get the atmosphere this fic was written in, picture a touch- and affection-starved 20 y/o, listening to a 50 y/o song about a lonely depressed woman, that's a fucking BoP.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JodPHplACCE)
> 
>  
> 
> Yep, That ^ is the link.

Jesus was tired of the fighting. It was painfully obvious to everybody around him. He was tired of the violence and the emotional toll it all took on him. But he needed to keep going because so many people relied on him. So many people needed Jesus to keep going in order to keep going themselves.

Judas was aware of these things but that did not make him like the situation any more. Looking at Jesus had once been his favourite thing to do. He had found motivation in every one of Jesus’ features; now, he could barely stand the sight of him at all. His hair had lost its shine and his skin was almost grey with dust and exhaustion. His eyes were always downcast instead of looking up as they once had.

Judas hated what this world had done to Jesus.

And now he was carrying him up the dirty stairs to the apartment they were staying in because even though Jesus had not been out for conflict today, the wrong person spotted him and before Judas could react, a flock of people were attacking Jesus, pulling him to the ground, kicking and punching blindly.

Judas tried to get them off of Jesus, but they only stopped when Jesus stopped moving. For a moment, Judas feared they might have done it now – killed Jesus in a street brawl. To end it as it had started. But Jesus was alive, if unconscious and he was heavier to carry than Judas would have hoped.

When Judas unlocked the front door, Jesus stirred under his hand.

He pried open his eyes, looking at Judas through bruises and messy hair.

“Fuck. How did we –“

“I carried you,” Judas replied, before Jesus could even finish the sentence. He wrapped an arm around Jesus’ middle and helped him inside. He locked the door behind them, before he nudged Jesus in the direction of the bathroom.

“Can you stand?” he asked, carefully leaving Jesus to lean against the wall.

“Yeah. ‘m sore, but I don’t think anything’s broken.”

Judas nodded and started to fill up the bathtub.

“A shower is enough,” Jesus protested, but Judas turned around to raise an eyebrow at him and Jesus went silent.

“I’ll get in there if you come with me,” he spoke up again after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

Judas snorted.

“Why?”

Jesus was slowly removing his clothes, battered, bloodied and dirty like himself, fingers trembling. His eyes stayed fixed on these movements when he responded.

“Because I want somebody to touch me without hurting me.”

This simple sentence was enough to break Judas’ heart. He loved Jesus more than anything or in fact anybody else in the world; otherwise he would not still be here. And Jesus was fully aware of it. Judas had told him before, yet Jesus never acted like he was interested in Judas as well, always treating him well but never treating him how Judas most desired. This simple request crossed a border they had never crossed before, platonic or not.

“Okay.” Judas’ voice came out weaker than he had expected.

He adjusted the temperature of the water, before getting out of his clothes as well. Judas could really use a bath as well. He could not even remember the last time he had taken one; the tub was largely unused.

“Can you make it over here?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Jesus replied.

Judas turned away and smiled sadly. Jesus was always fighting, even when he did not need to.

Carefully, so as not to slip, he got into the tub and sat down, enjoying the hot water, that felt almost soothingly gentle against his skin. Jesus had reached the tub, looking down at Judas with an expression he could not make out.

“Come here, then,” Judas said and reached out both hands. Jesus took one, grabbing the edge of the tub with his other, slowly sinking into the water between Judas’ legs. When he relaxed against his chest, hand still clasping Judas’, he let out a small hiss, that ran through Judas like ice.

“You okay?”

“It burns. The scrapes, cuts. I don’t know how bad it is. Didn’t look. But it burns.”

“I’m sorry,” Judas said, not sure what he was apologising for because Jesus would have had to wash himself either way.

“Don’t be,” Jesus replied, shifted, and tilted his head so he could look at Judas.

The warmth of his eyes incited something within Judas.

“Don’t you think, that maybe things are going too far?” he asked.

“No.”

“People aren’t just your fans anymore, Jesus. You’re far beyond that. They think you’re a literal god. Or the son of one. Or whatever… You know that’s just a load of crap.”

Jesus frowned.

“How? How could I know. We know nothing, Judas. And if this belief helps them, then I encourage it.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why?” Jesus shot back.

“Because look what happened today. It’ll only get worse.”

“Suppose it does get worse, what’s the worst that can happen?” Jesus asked and proceeded to answer his own question. “I die. And the world goes on, as much as I’d like to change that.”

“Fuck,” Judas said and pulled his hand from Jesus’ grip.

“You don’t like it but it’s true.”

“Why do you care so little about your life?” Judas’ voice broke and he looked away.

“Why do you care so much.”

“Because I love you and I don’t think I could live without you.”

The truth was easy to release.

Jesus did not speak much. Judas washed him, hands gliding over his skin, tangling in his hair, washing out the mud and dust. His touches were gentle, but firm; he knew Jesus needed to be handled with confidence.

Jesus climbed out of the tub while Judas rinsed out his own hair and eventually followed him. Wrapped in a towel, Judas gestured for Jesus to sit down, while he went to the bedroom to get some clothes.

Dressed in the slightly over-sized hoodie and a pair of sweat pants, with his hair wrapped in a towel, Jesus looked so much better than before. There was still a gash at his cheek and he had a black eye, but he was clean and there was a small smile playing around the corners of his lips.

Judas’ heart was yearning but years of practice made this easy to ignore.

Judas was getting dressed himself, when Jesus broke the silence.

“I’m sorry. About being reckless. And about what I said.”

“You meant it,” Judas said. He knew it to be true. Even if Jesus apologised, that did not make his previous words any less sincere.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I don’t feel like there is much to live for anyway.”

Judas flinched, trying to swallow down the feelings, rising up within him. Jesus needed him; this was not the right time to cry over a broken heart.

But before Judas could respond, Jesus continued, closing the toilet and sitting down on it.

“But then you come along and I know there’s something about you that’s special. And I don’t know if I can ever love you like you love me, but I will try, because you deserve it.”

Judas shook his head. Jesus was not making sense.

“I’m scared.” He held out a hand and Judas took it, letting himself be pulled closer, until Jesus’ hands settled at either side of Judas’ waist, and he looked up at him softly. His eyes were wide, emphasising what he was saying.

“I’m so scared of dying, Judas. I don’t want to die. Because I know it’ll be bad. There’s no way my death will be quick or harmless, ‘cause you’re right. We’re far beyond that. So I’m scared. But I also am because I couldn’t make you go through that.”

Judas shook his head again, taking deep breaths, trying to blink away the tears that were collecting in his eyes.

“Don’t blame yourself. I shouldn’t have said that,” he somehow managed to get out. He put a hand behind Jesus’ head, caressing the skin between the hem of his hoodie and the towel. The simple touch alone seemed to calm Jesus down.

They stayed like that for several moments, the silence no longer uncomfortable.

Jesus reached for Judas’ other hand and pulled him down, kneeling between Jesus’ thighs, looking up into his eyes, closer to Jesus than he had been before, this position more intimate than any other.

“Jesus, I –“

“Shh,” Jesus made.

It was instinct, that made Judas pull his hand from Jesus’ and lay it against his cheek, dragging his fingertips over his beard, then slipping them under the towel, palm settling against Jesus’ jaw.

It was instinct, that made him close his eyes, merely hearing Jesus’ sharp breath. He moved in, foreheads touching; Judas’ nose brushed against Jesus’ and he felt the hot puffs of air against his lips. Jesus’ hands were settling against the back of Judas’ head, fingers slipping between wet strands of hair.

It was instinct, that made Judas tilt his head up until their lips were brushing together – not quite a kiss.

“Please,” he whispered against Jesus’ lips – a prayer in a time of desperation. And Jesus heard and answered his plea, moving to close his lips over Judas’.

Nothing magical happened, no great revelation occurred to Judas – instead it was just him and Jesus, breathing each other’s air, lips parting, meeting again, careful and gentle. They took their time, kisses deepening and lips opening, each hesitant, because the revelation was too obvious.

This thing between them, precious and fragile, could be lost too easily, with a wrong word or a reckless deed.

They tilted their heads, embraces tightening, as if trying to melt into one another. Judas ran a finger over the gash at Jesus’ cheek and was at once painfully aware that even though he was happy, this happiness could be taken from him in just another day.

**Author's Note:**

> God. You made it through.  
> Please let me know what you think, I'm hungering for feedback (there's probably nothing to say about this lmao don't worry) also.. Kudos <3


End file.
